


Two Ladies Without Their Lords

by peristeronic



Series: Morag and Isla [1]
Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Adultery, Being annoyed by the patriarchy, F/F, does this count as a crack ship?, ladies kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peristeronic/pseuds/peristeronic
Summary: Lady Macbeth has political ambitions; Lady Macduff just wants to make out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr; inspired by a random generator. Honestly this is kinda fluffy and suggestive and pointless?? But as soon as I came up with the idea of shipping these two, I couldn't let it go.

When the king entered, suddenly the talk was of nothing but glory on the battlefield. This was a subject about which the ladies could have nothing to say. Macbeth and Macduff each left their wives to amuse themselves. Lady Macbeth hid her displeasure behind a hostess’ smile, but she remained within earshot of the men, listening in on their conference. Her husband was eager for praise, like a dog sitting at the king’s feet, and like a dog with a bone he was loath to share with anyone. Especially not Macduff, who was hard pressed to hide his dislike of Macbeth. He thought Macbeth too ambitious. She had been watching his distrust grow for some time now. Banquo made a jest, grinning, and the king roared with laughter. He could not eclipse the other men with his skill in battle, but Banquo’s good humor and good counsel made him many friends. And a man with friends was a man with resources. She thought it unwise to underestimate him.

“Morag.” A hand touched her arm gently and she started. She had been too busy—too obvious—watching the men. She turned to see Macduff’s lady, a smile of several different emotions playing on her lips.

“Pardon my absent-mindedness, Isla,” Lady Macbeth said.

“Your eavesdropping, you mean.” The smile was teasing.

Morag met Isla’s eyes without any shame.

“Come, my dear,” Isla said, taking her hand. “If our husbands can amuse themselves without us, we can amuse ourselves without help from them.”

Morag made no move to go with her. Flashing a look of disappointment, Isla took Morag’s hand in both of hers, running her thumb over the knuckles.

“No decisions of great import will be reached in our absence. Look at the king. He is in a mood to drink deep and retell old tales, not to discuss politics,” Isla said.

“The men a king drinks with decide the fate of a kingdom.”

“And your husband knows that as well as you do, and men like him after he’s had a pint. He doesn’t need your counsel right now. If you hang about too near, you will only make the king wonder if Macbeth is tied to your apron-strings,” she warned. “Which he is.”

Morag let Isla lead her into another room. In fact Isla led her into her own private sitting room, being familiar with the back way up a steep and narrow twist of stairs. There was no fire in the grate, so she knelt to light the fire while Morag wrapped herself in a sheepskin in front of the hearth, her knees drawn up to her chest in an attitude so different from the upright posture and dignified self-control she had shown two minutes before.

“Make room for me, love,” Isla said, coaxing, pulling at the sheepskin. She nestled up next to Morag, pulling the sheepskin around them both, and kissed the other woman’s cheek. Before she had pulled back Morag had turned her face toward hers, a hand running through her fair hair and mussing her braid. 

“My dear...” Morag whispered before Isla closed the gap between their mouths, kissing her. Hands tangled in long hair as Isla climbed into Morag’s lap. The sheepskin slipped off their shoulders, pooling on the floor around them. 

“You would make a fine queen of Scotland,” Isla said, smiling as Morag lifted an eyebrow. “Aye, you would make a great queen. Or a general, if you prefer.” She teased Morag with kisses along her jaw.

“First I must see my fool of a husband as king,” Morag said, the vision floating in front of her even her attention was pulled elsewhere.

“But you are my queen already,” Isla said. “Even if no one else’s. Let me treat you like a queen, my love...”


End file.
